She asked, abruptly, “Do you still have that old cardboard set I made?”
“No. When Ovorton closed, I lost track of it. Probably got swept away with the trash.”
“Good,” she said. “It was very ugly.”
“I miss it,” Valk said.
“You shouldn’t. I’m glad it’s all over. So glad.”
That dark place that she barely remembered opened up, and she started crying. She had thought to pretend that none of it ever happened, and so carried around this blackness that no one could see, and it would have swallowed her up if Valk hadn’t sent that telegram. She got that message and knew it was all true, knew it had all happened, and he would be able to see her.
She scrubbed tears from her face and didn’t try to hide any of this.
“I wasn’t sure how much you remembered,” Valk said softly.
“I wasn’t sure either,” she said, laughing now. Laughing and crying. The darkness shrank.
“Are you sorry you came?”
“Oh, no. It’s just…” She put her hand in his and tried to explain. Discovered she couldn’t speak. She had no words. And it didn’t matter.